I'm Not Here
by Cumberbabe7437
Summary: This is just a short one shot about John, three years after Sherlock had jumped. Three years of struggle without the man you love really can ware on a person. I based this off of the song 'How to Disappear Completely' by Radiohead also .. Just because.


_"You're so beautiful." _  
_"Oh stop .." John chuckled, his fingers gently caressing Sherlock's defined cheek. "Why do you say things like that?" _  
_"Its the truth. You know how blunt I am."_  
_"And bad with feelings?"_  
_Sherlock's crooked grin made an appearence on the consulting detectives face then. "You've helped that." _  
_BEEP BEEP BEEP_  
_"What was that?" John looked around, lifting his gaze from the perfect man's face above him, where they lay. _  
_"Wake up, John." _  
_"B-but.."_  
_"Wake up .."_

John's ocean eyes fluttered opened to see his dull room, full of gray's and darkness. The soft tapping of rain on his window was all that was heard in the silent flat, other than the beeping of his alarm clock. It was already 6:30am, time to get up.  
Sitting up, the doctor swung his lifeless legs over his bedside and sat there for a moment, staring down at his bare feet. Another day, another dreary day. Picking himself up he exited his room, placing his hand for just a moment on the small case beside his door before disappearing around the corner. Down the stairs he went. He showered, he read the paper, had a cup of tea and then got dressed.  
"Knock, knock !" There was a familiar voice calling from the doorway and John put on his best smile, waltzing towards the voice.  
"Ah, goodmorning Mrs. Hudson, how are you?"  
"Oh I'm well dear. I've just come up to check on you, sea if you wanted a cuppa or something to eat. You look as though you're wasting away, love."  
"Nonesense !" John let out a hardy laugh, one almost he believed. "I've just finished eating and just had a cup unfortunately, perhaps tomorrow morning? Just come right in."  
"Alright dear, I hope you have a good day." After a small pat on the shoulder, Mrs. Hudson turned and left.  
John's fake smile quickly faded and he slumped into Sherlock's old chair, much as he'd done every single day for the last three years. He inhaled deeply, knowing that the man's scent had disappeared long, long ago. He ran his fingers over the used material and down the side of the arm, remembering the times when there was warmth in this house. When his life had a meaning. When he wasn't in denial and when he was alive; when Sherlock was alive.  
John laid there for more than a few hours, into the mid afternoon when his eyes rose to the wall clock and realized it was after 15:38pm.  
"Bugger." He murmured, standing up and dragging himself to the kitchen. His stomach knotted and moaned for food but the only thing that the doctor removed from the fridge and set on the table was a glinting pint bottle of Devil Springs Vodka. Removing a shot glass from the cupboard, careful not to move or touch anything else that was laying around he set that beside it.  
He sat down on the stool and poured himself a shot, staring blankly at Sherlock's old eqiptment that he'd still kept on the kitchen table after all this time, then, he took the shot. The firy burn slithered down John's throat like molten lava and the man grimaced, setting down the glass so hard the equiptment rattled.  
"Sssss." He inhaled sharply, then exhailed, pouring another shot. He quickly took it and the burn scortched just as much as the last, his eyes clenching closed he poured one shot and than another, taking them both quick before he gagged, coughing hard. "Sodding hell !" He called, barking harder as the vodka still stung. After a few moments of containing himself, he looked at the bottle, picking it up and taking it to his bedroom. John drug his feet slowly up the stairs, his head swimming as he was already beginning to feel the affects of the Devil's liquid that he'd drank.  
His bedroom was cold, and without realizing it he'd left his window open and the rain that trickled down his window panes now laid in a puddle on his floor. The beige curtains flickered around in the wind that blew in and John shivered for a moment, taking a huge gulp from the bottle before falling into the bed. Hours more passed as he laid there, so many in fact that he'd drank half the bottle of that 160 proof vodka. As his head was spinning he listened to the music he'd put on a while ago; a radiohead CD that his sister had made for him years back.  
_In a little while I'll be gone, the moment's already passed.. yeah it's gone. And I'm not here, this isn't happening.. I'm not here, I'm not here. _  
Sitting up, John looked at the case by his door and set down the bottle on the floor, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed before stumbling towards the doorway, crashing full speed into the wall. "Oh Sherlock.." He said, his vision blurry. He picked up the case and opened it, slowly and shakily undoing the lock and the case flew opened. Laying inside was Sherlock's violin. "I miss you.." He smiled sadly down at the instrument, barely running his fingertips over the strings. The instrument was the only thing John had in the still preserved house that still smelled of the man's existance. "I miss you .. Why aren't you coming home?" He asked to the violin as the music played and the rain beat against the window. "P-Please come home .." Tears fell from the doctor's eyes then. It began as a slow drip that in moments turned to a rushing river then to a hurricane. "I just want to tell you how much you mean to me !" He croaked out, leaning over the case, his face in his hands. He sobbed and sobbed, making incoherient scentences. "Its not fair !" He lashed out, snapping the case shut. "I don't want to b-be .. Left alone .. anymore."  
As the song skipped and then replayed itself on repeat John's little mind sprouted an idea, making the man crawl over towards his small bedside table. He propped himself against the bed, taking the bottle of vodka in his hand he took another swig, grimacing at the taste but only for a breif moment. "Alright .." He smiled once again, slithering his hand inside the drawer to dig for something and as soon as his hand touched it, it felt like electricity. "Its time." He announced to the silence; to his demons. Pulling out his gun he set it in his lap, hands clenched firmly around the weapon. "Its time .." He repeated, just as the song was. Sticking his hand back in the drawer, he pulled out a silencer that he'd picked up a few months ago and he began setting it up. This was his time, he'd had enough. Closing his eyes tightly he pressed the barrel under his chin, straight upwards. As the tears slipped from his eyes, the last thing the man remembered seeing was Sherlock's violin and then his wonderful smile. He pulled the trigger.

Mrs. Hudson climbed the stairs the next morning and looked around the empty flat. "John?" She called, in an abnormally cheery voice. "Love, come here I have a surprise for you I'm sure you'll like." After a few moments she sighed and put her hands on her hips, shaking her head. "You'll just have to go get him, he must still be sleeping, the lazy."  
"I will, Mrs. Hudson, thank you." A deep silky voice from behind the door said and into the old flat appeared Sherlock. He smiled a bit as he noticed that everything was still as it was three years prior. The tall man turned to begin up the stairs to John's room, excited to see his best friend once more.


End file.
